


Paper Crown

by YXxXxXY



Series: FFXV Oneshots/Drabbles [139]
Category: FFXV - Fandom
Genre: Canon Compliant, I'm Sorry, M/M, OOF THE ANGST, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:28:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27522298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YXxXxXY/pseuds/YXxXxXY
Summary: Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all.
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Prompto Argentum
Series: FFXV Oneshots/Drabbles [139]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804237
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	Paper Crown

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: this is only my second (intentional) piece of Promptis, so forgive me if I haven't quite gotten the hang of it yet.

_Many sacrificed all for the King, so must the King sacrifice himself for all._

Coughs broke the silence of the throne room, the Draconian’s words echoing in his mind. His lips were quirked in a derisive smirk, his teeth working at his cheek as he bit back the screams lodging his throat.

“Guess this is the ‘all’ the overgrown lizard mentioned,” Noctis breathed, another cough racking his already weak frame. Steel blue eyes stared at the ceiling of the once magnificent throne room of the Citadel, his lips twisted into a grimace as the sword in his abdomen shifted. “I never wanted this.”

 _They say your life flashes before your eyes when you’re about to die_ , Noct mused, a ragged sigh passing his lips and his eyes fluttering to a close. One corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile, memories of his childhood flooding his mind. His mother, his father, Ignis, Gladio… Prompto.

“I’m sorry, Prompto. I should have gotten to you sooner.” _No. I never should have pushed you in the first place. Some friend I turned out to be, huh? But … don’t worry. I won’t be late this time._

***

Heavy-soled boots pounding against the shattered marble, the stumbling footsteps racing through the destroyed lobby. A flash of blond hair, then he was gone. He didn’t bother with the elevator; Prompto took the steps three at a time, the toes of his boots catching on more than a few steps in his haste. But he never slowed down, never stopped to catch his breath. Not until he was sure Noct was okay.

His chest heaving, Prompto scrambled into the throne room, indigo eyes wide when he saw the prone body of his best friend. Eyes lifeless, skin pale -- even Prompto couldn’t change the fact that Noct was already gone. The blond collapsed to his knees, fingers curling into fists as the tears dripped to the ground. 

He wanted to scream. Wanted to rip out his eyes. Wanted to end this nightmare himself, no matter the consequences. But he couldn’t; he could barely find it in himself to speak.

Gladio and Ignis caught up with him then, the former instinctively grabbing a hold of Ignis’s shoulder to keep the blind man from tripping over Prompto.

"Dammit… too late again..." he laughed, body listing forward to lean his forearms on the ground. As his forehead met with the shattered stone, he screamed. It was a scream unlike any other; so filled with anguish and pain. It tore through the air, and the two males at his back flinched at its intensity. “I’m always too late!”

The first few rays of sunlight filtered through the still-intact windows and the large hole in the wall, casting the throne in a wash of golds and yellows. But Prompto couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor, even as the sun began warming his back.

“Prompto.” The blond hiccuped, pushing himself from the ground and wiping at his eyes before getting to his feet and turning to face Ignis. For a moment, the tears stopped, confusion clouding Prompto’s mind as he eyed the piece of paper Ignis held towards him.

“Noct… he wanted you to have this.”

His brows knitting together, Prompto took the paper, his eyes lingering on Ignis for a second longer before moving to the folded whatever -- it was a _note;_ Prompto would recognize that hurried penmanship anywhere. Several lines were scribbled out, most starting like a formal address. The realization made the blond snort and he went to continue reading when something fell from the pages. The clinking of metal on the marble -- rings -- accompanied the only legible lines on the scrap of paper.

_I don’t know how much time we have left, and I know it’s not much. But you and I, we’ll always wear matching crowns._


End file.
